


On the Vindictiveness and Devotions of Such Creatures as are called Veela

by DavidtheAthenai



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, flowerpot discord drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26702284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DavidtheAthenai/pseuds/DavidtheAthenai
Summary: A short tale of grief, loss and hope, of devotion that is stronger than the weight of an unfair world.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour & Harry Potter, Fleur Delacour/Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33
Collections: Flowerpot Garden Collection One





	On the Vindictiveness and Devotions of Such Creatures as are called Veela

_Collab Gang Submission II_

_**On the Vindictiveness and Devotions of Such Creatures as are called Veela** _

_by DavidtheAthenai_

* * *

_**A short tale of grief, loss and hope,** _

_**of devotion that is stronger than the weight of an unfair world.** _

* * *

It was a sunny day.

Golden rays came through the window, warming the sight of the world. Birds chirped and flew in a complex dance, revelling in the beauty. The sky was as blue as any I had seen, clouds tastefully decorating it, the arrangement so picturesque that you would swear it was done by a painter's hand. Not even the normally dreary ambience of Grimmauld Place could compete with the magnificence of Nature today.

What a mockery.

I was dead, and the world celebrated it. A week had passed, a week of pitying faces, a week of I'm sorry and meaningless reassurances. I was numb. I was bristling. The sight of all those apologetic and compassionate faces made the ice in my veins boil. It was stupid, it was senseless, it was irrational, but it was.

I had found a place for myself after a life of scorn, a different world, full of wonder and discovery, of magic. A world where I was someone, where I had people that cared for me. It was not a perfect world, I learned that quickly enough. It was a dangerous world, but well worth the danger and efforts to adjust. And now that world was being ripped away from me. Because of politics, because of the mistrust, because of the fear. The fear of Him.

My jaw clenched in tandem with my hands on the windowsill and my teeth ground in chorus with the scraping of nails on wood. I was trembling. My arms shaking against the feeling of impotence and desperation. I was crippled, lame, cursed to live a half-life, a ghost between two worlds. A part of me ripped away and destroyed. And all because of Him.

A sound started forming in my throat, the ripples of it harmonizing with the trembling on my body, like a single string of rage plucked, left to vibrate and scream on its own.

"Harry?" came a tentative voice after knocking softly on the door, "Is everything fine in there."

I almost laughed at that.

"I am fine Mrs Wealsey. Just a bit tired."

Silence, and then the sound of feet shifting on a moth-eaten carpet.

"We had lunch already, my dear, but I saved you a bit for if you feel hungry later."

I sighed, my body falling deflated to the ground under the window, "Thank you, Mrs Weasley. I'll go down later," I said in the rasp that my voice had become. I could hear her leave. I had gotten used to the sound by now, steps receding from the door of Sirius' old room where I had taken refuge. I just sat there for some indefinite amount of time, thinking, my mind going in circles.

* * *

The sky had darkened at some point, the front door banged open, and the portrait of Sirius' mother started to scream but I could not hear it. I heard the sound of a gavel and a booming voice say a single, earth-shattering word.

"Guilty."

I heard the clamouring of the witnesses and the public, distorted, slowed, meaningless noise.

"Convict, step forward and present your wand for destruction," I looked at the Minister, not believing my own ears, "Now, or the wand will be procured by force."

I made it a couple of uncertain steps forward and took the wand from my pocket, the pale wood reflecting the warm light from the torches. I looked at the Minister again and his face hardened, I tightened my grip on the wand and the phoenix inside of it sung into my blood, the fire of it demanding, lit by my own fear, by my own defiance.

I caught Dumbledore's eye. With his help I may be able to do it. He shook his head minutely, face severe, eyes focused.

I screamed inside, why shouldn't I? Why should I let them take everything away from me? I had done this before, just a few weeks before, I had stood against Voldemort himself while his most valued soldiers stood watch. I had fought, and I had managed it on my own.

The song was not merely in my blood anymore, the thrum of it reverberated around the room, the torches burning brighter than before, the pale wood glowing red. I could feel myself snarl as I lifted my wand, the torches burning even brighter.

With a single move a circle of Aurors fell into place in front of me, wands pointed. More than I cared to count.

"Step down, convict! Withdraw your weapon!" The one in front of me screamed, his wand taking on a blue glow. I let my eyes roam through the crowd in the benches, looking for an opportunity, for support. I found none. A lot of people seemed afraid, a few drew their wands, their eyes firmly on me. Most seemed entertained, clearly not considering I posed any threat, and damn their eyes, they were right.

I clenched my teeth and dropped the wand at my feet.

The Auror in front of me walked closer and crouched to retrieve it. He screamed and the wand clattered back to the floor, the stench of singed skin reaching my nose. He clambered backwards cradling his hand against his chest, he glanced at me and then back at the wand, eyes wide and lip trembling.

Another one approached and lifted my wand with the edge of his cloak, the leather smoking where it touched the wood. He walked backwards towards the benches where the Jury was sat and dropped the wand in the table hurriedly.

I could feel it. The intimate bond between a wand and its master, I could feel the pull in the centre of my chest, stretching as the wand got farther away from me, I could feel its rebellious yell vibrating in my bones. It knew. I knew.

It grew louder, a symphony of pain and rage over the drum of my heart, getting stronger, faster. A war cry, unrealized.

The Minister, Fudge, took my wand with a piece of parchment that combusted almost instantly and let it fall atop a small anvil that was resting on the table. The wood was completely red now and smoke came from it, I was rooted to the floor, I was atop the anvil. A cruel hand raised a hammer and with an explosion of fire and a rattling scream, I died.

* * *

"Let it be put to record that the convict, one Harry James Potter, after a reluctant handing over of his only wand, recorded as eleven inches, holly wood and phoenix feather core, was present during its destruction. He is, therefore, verboten any formal magical education. The stigma of his broken bond a mark to indicate his status as excommunicated, for which he would be thereupon unauthorized to buy a wand from any source, or to use the wand of another witch or wizard under pain of punishment for both himself and the enabler to be set on a case by case basis. That would be all, I call the disciplinary hearing of the Convicted to a close."

* * *

I don't remember much else from that day, but a haze of sound of colour. I was simply not there. I remember coming to Grimmauld Place, half dragged by Mr Weasley. I remember how the smile fell from Sirius' haggard face when he saw me. I was pushed into a whirlwind of hands and faces, pats on the back and meaningless words. Hermione hugged me at one point, Ron pressed my head against his shoulder on the other side.

Any other time and I would have baulked at the closeness, at the lack of air. But what was the point if I was not breathing anyways?

The Weasleys all surrounded me, words that intended reassurance, hands over hearts. Ginny was crying she stepped towards, her intention clear, but someone stepped in front of me, and Ginny was eclipsed.

It was her.

A small sun, full of light and grace even in the dreary dungeon that passed for a kitchen in this house, radiant even through the haze of my grief.

I could feel her, as I always did, the warmth from her skin evident even through the foot of cold air between us, but her calm warmth had changed. It was not calm at all anymore. It was roiling.

She held my shoulders and peered into my eyes, the shifting colours on hers sparkling a depth of feeling I thought lost just moments before. She pulled me into a hug with all the strength her non-human arms were capable of, crushing me to her body until not an inch of me could feel the coldness from the world, but only her warmth.

It relieved the broken hole in the middle of my being, the rawness left the violent tearing of something primordial, something essential.

"Don't despair, Mon Coeur," She whispered into my ear, "I will fix this. I will."

She kissed my temple, and then my cheeks, and then, as delicate as a butterfly, she kissed my lips.

The kitchen was entirely quiet now.

Our lips parted in the same manner and with a shaky smile before setting her shoulders, Fleur left, leaving the sharp scent of curiosity and reproach in her wake.

The haze had lifted some, and the pain receded, but as she left, I could feel the tide draw in again. So I left. I went through the spaces left in her wake, and into the room that would become my plane of existence for the next week.

* * *

The door opened after a soft knocking, and in came Sirius, his face doing its best to support an easy smile despite its gaunt appearance.

"Hello there," He said in a loud whisper.

"Come in," I whispered back.

He stalked into the room, moving in the dark with the ease of someone who is entirely familiar with the layout. He sat beside me under the window, the moonlight throwing his sharp features into relief.

"You know lad, I appreciate the gesture, but if you wanted to be more like me you could start by sleeping around instead of becoming a convicted felon."

I laughed. My throat was so dry by now that it made me cough, but I could not stop laughing, and it took me a couple of minutes until I could stop, heaving with the exertion of sudden mirth.

"The pretty blond bird is a nice step though. How did that come about?" I looked at him, and my face must have expressed enough, because he lifted his hands in a pacifying gesture, "I'm just curious, Harry. I have nothing against it, but judging by everyone's reaction that day it was not common knowledge, even amongst your friends. You did not look too surprised, though, so I guess it was not the first time she kissed you."

I touched my lips, and Sirius smiled. I shook my head, trying to clear it, "I'm not sure I would have reacted strongly to anything at that moment, I was…"

"I know."

I looked at him.

"Convicted felon here, remember."

"Did they…"

"They did," he turned to the darkness of the room, "I was not even there when they destroyed it. I was already in a cell in Azkaban. I did not feel the dread of the wand at first, I suppose there was enough of it to go around, what with the dementors. I felt the pull, though. I think that's how it must feel to have your soul ripped out, that's what I thought was happening at first. And then-"

"The pain," I said, "A rage that it's yours, but more than that. And then, then- the snap."

"I think I passed out when the connection broke. I'm not sure I did, my mind was reeling, I was angry, I was mourning. The dead, the ones that were worse than dead. But I remember waking up later, and feeling so… hollow."

"I can't imagine what it must be like to go through that in Azkaban.

"I think I only survived it because of you."

"Me?"

He smiled ruefully, a bit embarrassed even, "It was the knowledge that you were out there safe, the memory of those little baby feet kicking in my arms that kept me sane. Well, as sane as you see me now."

I chuckled and let my sight fall to my feet. I never thought of someone thinking of me, baby or otherwise with such a fondness.

"Don't let this hollowness consume you, Harry. You are strong, you are brave and selfless, but you must take your strength from wherever it may come. It is not a burden, lad, and even if it were it is one that I for one would gladly shoulder. And don't look at me like that. You have had your share of burdens, and you have carried them without protest. Let us do it for you now."

I nodded, still not looking at him.

"Now, why don't you tell me about this girl. Fleur, is it?"

I nodded, a smile playing in my lips, "Yes, Fleur Delacour. I met her last year, at the Tournament. She was not happy at all that I was to compete as a fourth champion. Threw a right fit, sparkles and all," I laughed at the memory, "She apologized later, said she had let her passions run away with her manners, and that she should not be rude to the competition, after all, it didn't matter how many participants there were if there was only going to be one winner. Her."

"Proud, isn't she?"

"With good reason. She is brilliant with a wand."

"I could poke fun at that phrasing, but I won't."

"How generous," I drawled, "We spoke here and there, I was not too choosy with my friends last year, didn't have the luxury, but she… Well, I had one more friend by the time the First Task rolled by. She has always been there when I needed to talk, or just when I needed company. I think it started out of need, from both of us. She was alone at the castle at the time, and so was I. We have a similar problem of public perception, you see?"

"Ah, yes. So you know what she is."

"Better than most, I think. I didn't at first, because she doesn't affect me as strongly as she does others, you know? But I've seen her fire, yes."

"You are a braver man than I am, Harry. I've heard so many stories about Veela…"

"She is not like those stories. She… well, she is different, sure, but she is not some men enslaving monster."

"I am more worried about the talons and the fire myself. I don't think I'd mind the enslaved by a coven of beautiful women part of the stories."

I snorted, "I'm sure you wouldn't. I did not need to know that though."

"No shame Sirius, they call me. But do go on, you haven't gotten to the juicy parts yet."

"No shame indeed," I shrugged, my stiff back immediately protesting the decision, "I told her about the dragons for the first task. I had just found out about them, and one of the first things that came into my mind was her. I think I should have known then, but I digress. She more or less called me stupid and naive to be giving her such an advantage."

"She was right, though. You got nothing from telling her."

"I got reassurance that she would not get eaten."

"I am sure she was impressed."

"If she was, she didn't say. But we became closer that day. She was really mad at first, you see, I broke into her room."

"Really?" He leaned towards me stroking his pointy beard, eyes bright with speculation.

"At maybe two in the morning."

"Hah!" He started laughing hysterically, "I knew you had it in you!"

"You really should be an actual felon, Sirius," I looked at him askance and he shrugged.

"I remember reading you rescued her little sister from the black lake. Trying to soften her up, were you?" He poked my ribs with his elbow.

"Stop it. She asked me to do it. I did it."

"Just like that?"

I shrugged and started pulling hairs from the carpet, "I know what family means to her. I could not say no."

Sirius nodded with a soberness that belied him, "I can respect that."

"And then, she was there," I exhaled.

"There? You mean… at the graveyard?"

"She is the only reason I am alive right now, Sirius."

Sirius was quiet for a moment. "Dumbledore didn't mention her when he debriefed us. The Order, I mean."

"There is a lot he doesn't mention," I ripped a fistful of carpet, "like how he did nothing to help in the hearing. Not when they tried me, and even less when I intended to escape."

He started, "you what?!"

"I could have done it," I said, "I'm sure. I just needed a little help. He just shook his head, though. Didn't even lift a finger."

Sirius looked troubled at that, and he shifted to and fro where he sat.

"There is likely not a lot he could have done. Not without committing a serious case of assault against the Head of government,"

"In any case, it was my shitty luck that she was not there the day of the dementors' attack. She had visited the day before."

His brows rose as high as they could, a twitch on the corner of his lip warning me of the content of his next comment.

"Stop it, man. It's not like that."

"She visited you during the summer though. Several times, if I get your meaning right."

"Yeah. It was during my stay in the hospital wing, after- well, you know. I- I told her I love her. I was… shaken. I knew I had grown fond of her, and I had almost died without telling her. She smiled, kissed me and said that I should get some rest. I really thought I had fucked it up. I woke up during that night to hear her… I guess singing is the word. Humming, maybe. I have never heard anything so beautiful. It made me forget every worry I had."

"Ah. The song of a Veela," he shuddered, "can't say I've heard good things about it."

"They know nothing. Next morning she was gone. The foreign students had been recalled because of everything that had happened."

"Ouch."

"Yes, ouch. Imagine my surprise when I saw her sitting on the steps of the Dursley's when I got there from the station."

"How did she even- how did we not see her? We had the house under surveillance."

"I told you. She is an amazing witch. As to how she knew where to go, apparently, she asked Ron before leaving."

Sirius scoffed, "Lad didn't stand a chance. He would jump out the window if she asked him and batted her lashes."

I winced at the barb, and he inclined his head questioningly.

"I almost jumped out the stands on the quidditch world cup when the Bulgarian veela started singing."

"Hah! Well, maybe this little bird will have enough power to stop you from doing something stupid."

"What do you mean?"

He shook his head ruefully, "Attacking an assembled chamber, of which the minister himself is a part of, in the deepest parts of the ministry. I am supposed to be the irresponsible and reckless one, you know?" He put a hand on my shoulder and looked at me straight, "For what its worth, I'm glad you didn't do it."

"What!" I pushed his hand off, "I could have-"

"You could have gotten yourself killed, or imprisoned. Trust me, there are few people who actually deserve Azkaban, a lot less than the amount that gets sent there. I'd know."

"But it was not just because of the wand, Sirius, it's being expelled, it's-"

"The Mark of a Broken Bond."

"It has a name?"

"Well, you and I are hardly the first criminals in history, are we? There's been enough before for it to have a name. And yes, I won't lie to you and say it's not important, it's a big stigma in our community. But you are here now, my lad, you are here and there is hope. You are here where I can try and wrestle against that monster that's holding you, you are here and that wonderful, kind, witty, woman is out there waiting for you."

"Fleur is here?"

"She is here. Woke mother too. And I think it's best you go see her, she doesn't strike me as overly patient, and it's been a while now."

I stood and dusted my irredeemable looking pants before moving to the room's door.

"Sirius? I looked back, the ray of moonlight highlighting the falling specs of dust around him. A picture of peace.

"Yes, my boy?"

"Thank you."

He smiled and shooed me away with a gesture.

"Go make me proud."

* * *

Fleur Delacour was a magnificent creature.

I stood atop the main stairway of the dark, morbid hall of the even bleaker Grimmauld Place, and even in such circumstances everything around her looked warm and inviting, the slight shimmer that always surrounded her brighter than even the candles tasked with providing light for the room.

Her hair moved in a breeze that existed only for her, floating in such a delicate way that it was heartbreaking. I noticed then that I was halfway down the stairs to meet her, though I did not remember moving so.

It did not matter.

A movement on the far side of the room took my attention for a moment, enough to see Mrs Weasley's face set in disapproval, Ron and Hermione close by, he absent, she worried.

The force of Fleur's presence was too much and would accept nothing but my full attention, and with a commanding flare drew me in entirely again.

Her luminescence overwhelmed me, but still, I wanted nothing but to go to her, like a moth to a flame. Fated to burn.

I stepped into the fire, and my blood sang, my skin tingled and my brains boiled. I could see nothing outside her light, feel nothing outside her warmth, hear nothing but the tune in my veins.

"You came back," I said. I thought.

Her face was set in stone, a marble statue severe and solemn, her eyes cold as the pearls her skin so resembled, her barely-there eyebrows sharp with a determination that made my blood run cold and hot, but faster in any case.

"I did," she said, her eyes locked onto mine, unmoving, and I knew then that she saw nothing but me, felt nothing but my cold, heard nothing but the echo of her song in the hollow parts of me.

"I came back," she said, "and after today I will never go, or I will never return."

She lifted her hands, presenting me with an enamelled box, thin and long, a swirling pattern along its edge.

She made no further move, the box merely a foot from my chest, her eyes still fastened on mine, judging, looking at something far more important than anything I could grasp.

I raised my hands until they were an inch from the box, and then I stopped, my fingers twitching.

I knew what was in the box.

My eyes jumped from the box to hers, and they hardened.

"How can I- the verdict-"

"What I'm offering you is not an instrument, nor a tool. I am offering you my life and my being, for this is a part of me, and to accept it is to accept me, to join it is to join me. And it will be a part of you, your magic, your life and your intent will flow through it. We will be kindred in a way that few people will ever understand."

I looked at her, trying to find any motive, any sign. She looked impassive, severe, immutable. Terrible. But for all that, she was still Fleur, and her marble eyes were clear to me in that moment. She was afraid. But afraid of what? That I would accept? That I would not?

Her hands did not waver. The box did not lower.

My hands rose again to touch it, and again they stopped, "Is this what you want?" I asked, hopeful, terrified, looking at her with the same intensity that she had.

"I made my decision, mon 'Arry. You 'ave to make yours."

I took the box from her, her delicate fingers caressing my hands in the process. The box was cold as ivory on the outside, but I could feel the life inside of it, positively vibrating with excitement. Opening it revealed a wand of a wood dark as revenge, softly curved as a bird's talon and shimmering as only one other thing I've ever seen.

My fingers slid over the wood in an intimate caress and I could feel the light and warmth around me shift and change, I could feel Fleur shiver.

My eyes went to hers again, just moments before I took it, and as my fingers moulded to the wand, I could see the change on them. They were not the eyes of a mere woman.

Warmth ran up my arm like liquid fire running through my veins, that rung with the primal cry of an ancient predator, a predator that stood before me, eyes dark with the strength of her intent, an intent I shared. My hollowness was no more, that primaeval wound now filled with the blaze of a star, the tendrils of it extending outward, not to the length of wood in my hand, but to the vision of perfection that composed my whole world at the moment.

She radiated with pride, with the thrill of a happiness that scared her for its strength, a thrill I could feel within that binding piece that I held like my own heart in my hand. Her features were sharper than I've ever seen them, shifted by emotion, slanted by passion, keratinized lips widening into a smile that shook my legs under me, feral, fierce, luscious.

I stepped towards her and we met in an embrace both unrestrained and vehement, her hair floated around us, a curtain of life and passion as we kissed.

Our lips smiled against each other, too unrestrained in their mirth to meet properly and my body thrummed with excitement, with an overmastering feeling that saw us to the ground, arms tightening against each other, her strong body moulding to my own. She bit my lip and pulled away, her eyes opening to meet mine in their very own type of kiss, the ring of blue surrounding the black depths at the centre growing even slimmer at the sight of my lips, and the small blob of blood her attentions had caused.

Her fingers tightened on my back and I felt her pointed nails dug in even through my clothes, I felt myself answer her toothy smile.

"Harry!" came a gasp from the corner of the room, "Do you know what this means?" said Hermione, her wide eyes echoed in Mrs Weasley's pale face.

I stood and faced them, and then looked down at Fleur on the floor. She was biting her lip and small clusters of downy, white feathers had formed on her hair. I held a hand to her and helped her up, marvelling at her barely-there weight. She shot a dangerous look at the other occupants of the room before signalling with her head and heading to the stairs, hips swaying with defiant confidence.

"I do," I said to the room, "Now I do," I said to myself, and started after her, flew again in her wake towards a future that had only one certainty, but that one certainty was enough.

That night we learned each other's song, a symphony of emotions strong enough to burn through steel, a thrumming that could level a building with its intensity.

From that night on, I knew that never would I stand alone in the darkness, if there was even a darkness deep enough to smother the ardent blaze of a veela's devotion.

That was the night that began the legend of a pair that fought as one, merciless and vindictive. They fought not for peace, not for country, not for honour, but for each other. A flame of such radiance that no creature of the night could resist its beckoning call, to try and rip such beauty from the world, only to fall into ash.

It had begun.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note
> 
> Hello, readers. I am back, in a way. This little piece is the result of a collab effort born in a Flowerpot Discord server that I was invited to by the user x102reddragon. It consists on a community led collection of drabbles and one shots of varying themes and moods, sharing only that which is the core of our server. They are Flowerpot (Harry/Fleur).
> 
> This is my submission to the collection, a lot more by other authors are going to be posted the following days, and likely have been posted already on the days before, so go check that out on the link I'll put at the bottom and on my profile.
> 
> This collection is meant to serve as a way to showcase the server, its authors and its betas. The purpose of the server is, in general, to promote the Harry/Fleur ship in any way it can, we have a lot of writers, beta readers on hand for any writer that needs them, fan art spaces and the best collection of prompts I have seen for the ship. Everyone is welcome, even if you don't feel like throwing in to write a story.
> 
> It's a very active place, though, and if you like my main story A Court of Flowers, you can always interact there with me. We have a lot of other authors, amongst them:
> 
> gomez36000 of Hope and Healing
> 
> Ajax of A Different Kind of War
> 
> maybemayba of A Beautiful Lie
> 
> Salient Causality of Harry Potter and the International Triwizard Tournament
> 
> An invite link will be posted both in the bottom of this doc and on my profile. Come, join us. I can guarantee you'll enjoy the experience.
> 
> A huge thanks to LTCMDR Michal Drápalík (HonorverseFan on FFnet) first and foremost for both the prompt that sprung this, and for his beta work on it. Many thanks too to Golodhrim|Abel Lecoq for taking the time to beta not only this, but all the other entries to the collab even while writing his own. A right, machine he is. NerdDragonVoid, otherwise known as Jay Z lost cousin, thanks for the effort put into betaing this little one shot.
> 
> Invite to the Discord Server: https://discord.gg/6VnkYaX


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